Something's Gotta Give
by Prudence Chastity
Summary: AU: Deborah doesn't mutate. Instead, she's cryogenetically frozen until a cure can be made. Relieved when she is saved, the sisters lose their previous inhibitions to each other & deal. Trouble comes when their long-thought-dead father breaks & makes contact. Harpercest, OC parents & mature content
1. Chapter 1

"We have to hurry," Helena urged again.

"I'm coming," Leon discarded the empty cartridge for a fresh one instead. Helena had already hurried on ahead by the time he'd glanced up to see. Two platforms down with a fresh wave of zombies, she'd slowed somewhat with fatigue, determination still etched in her eyes. "Dammit," Leon hurried, lifting his pistol to shoot as he ran, knocking back two enough for Helena to wiggle free her own weapon. A noisy spray of bullets poured from her assault rifle, knocking back the zombies a pitch that she used to catch her breath. Leon decapitated another with a well-aimed shot to its head.

Helena hurried through the horde of walking dead without concern to finish them off. She knocked a zombie right off the bridge as she went. "Hey!" Leon called out after her, this recklessness unexplained. Helena had been getting more desperate the deeper they went. He couldn't imagine what she hoped to show him in these depths.

Leon took the moment to knock back two more when he reached the platform, but Helena outpaced him by three platforms when he was done. Ignoring the rest of them like she had done, Leon sprinted off after her in effort to catch up. The bridge swayed precariously as he ran.

"Helena!"

If she heard, she didn't stop. Mercilessly pushing aside another zombie off the next platform, she prepared to jump. "Helena, don't! It's too f— " she jumped. Hitting the hard lip of the rock edge, she groaned and clung, struggling for a foothold as her arm slid on the edge. Leon sprinted over the next couple bridges to her platform she'd tried to shortcut and grabbed her arm to help haul her up. "Would you stop acting like such a lunatic?"

Helena puffed as they pulled her up together. "We have to…" she found enough leverage to haul the rest of the way and barely took a moment to dust off before she was on her feet again. Leon grabbed her arm before she could take off again.

"We won't get to save your sister if you die before we get there."

Helena looked at him like she might punch. Her features pained then, and she tugged. "We have to go."

"She's still alive, you're sure?"

"Not if we keep dawdling." Ripping her arm free, Helena took off again. Leon just had to trust she'd tell the rest after they'd found her. Taking after the woman, Leon kept pace, taking care of a couple zombies Helena rushed past.

"Deborah!" Helena called out, drawing the attention of some nearby walking dead. "Deborah, can you hear me?"

No living thing responded, but the answering roar of zombies was clear. Helena pushed over another two and scurried further, hitting a low, low platform that had a lone metal block in the midst with no more connecting platforms.

Helena slowed at the sight, then took a few cautious steps. She picked up a ripped cloth that looked like dirty, blood-crusted silk.

"Agh!" Leon watched Helena disappear over the other side of the slab.

"Helena!" Leon hurried over to the sounds of scuffle that abruptly stopped. Sliding across the slab, he grabbed the thing on top of his partner and held it over the edge to drop.

"NO!" Something painful smashed into the back of his knee, collapsing him backwards with the being on top, which didn't seem undead at all as its weight crushed down on his backwards fall. Helena grabbed the weight and tore it off. She clutched it, hugging. "Deborah."

Leon glanced over to find a full bodied woman on top of Helena, hiding her face in the younger sister's neck. From the side profile he could see, Deborah reflected her sister almost identically, they looked so alike. Deborah breathed more easily too. "Helena," she rested her head, closing her eyes. "You came back."

Sensing a private moment, Leon rolled to his feet and wandered a bit to the other end of the platform. He busied himself kicking a zombie's face.

XXX

"Deborah," Helena whispered, almost reverent in the sound. She could barely believe that her sister pressed against her, warm and alive in her arms.

"Helena, you're here," Deborah struggled to breathe. "You came back."

"I promised," Helena told her as if there'd been no other way, "I promised you'd be alright." Deborah went very quiet. Helena squeezed her as safe as she could. "It's going to be okay, Deborah. Leon and I will get you out."

Deborah was quiet and hid her face in Helena's strong shoulder.

"Deborah. Can you walk?"

"They injected me." Deborah said quietly instead, rousing Helena to lift her and look up at her fast. Deborah wouldn't look at her fully, but instead showed her arm. It might've been the dim light, but she looked paler than usual. Her veins showed especially blue in her arm. She pointed to a pinprick where a needle might've entered. "I've been forgetting things… different. It's how I got down here and came through the zombies. They left me alone. They... they didn't leave anyone else. " She met her eyes then and Helena could see the tears. Helena could barely hold back her own horror in disbelief. Simmons wasn't supposed to have touched her sister! "Helena…"

Helena sat up and grabbed Deborah around the back, crushing her to her body from her lap. "I'm getting you out of here." Helena vowed. "You're not gonna be one of them." Helena kissed high on her sister's cheek. Deborah's skin felt cold. She shivered and squeezed at the touch, rare fear shining through so bright. Helena rubbed her back. "Are you hurt? I saw the ripped silk, it had blood— "

"I'm okay," Deborah assured quietly, "I tripped when I saw them…" Helena brushed up the nightgown where she'd ripped to examine her injury, but Deborah just shook her head. "It's not there." Helena's eyes rose to her. "It healed up… instantly."

"Come on," Helena started to stand with her. "Leon, let's go. We have to get out of here. Now."

"Is everything okay?"

"We have to get to the CC immediately." Helena started to an edge and measured the distance to another platform that held a folded-up bridge. Judging it not out of the question, she turned back to her partner. "Spring me over."

"The Cryogenics Center?" It took a moment to register before Leon looked over to Deborah in concern and understanding. Helena's hand went to her gun, just in case she'd read him wrong.

Leon looked back to her and nodded gravely. "We should hurry." Helena released a small breath of relief. Leon prepared to spring her over; Helena was glad, with renewed speed. He didn't even try to warn her about the distance this time. Helena would need that speed to reach the cryogenics center in time. She'd never seen it, but had heard that intense cold slowed the mutation process. If she could get Deborah to the center in time, they could cocoon her in a cryogenic freezer until scientists discovered a cure. As long as they beat the mutation, she'd be safe.

Helena wouldn't lose her sister to this.

XXX

Deborah was made increasingly more nervous by the presence of the man named Leon who'd shown up with her sister. She could feel his eyes on her and it made her squirm inside. Deborah stuck close to Helena, whisperingly reassured by her sister throughout.

"It'll be like a sleep," Helena told her about the cryogenic freezing she wanted her to go through, "You won't feel a thing."

Her words did little to calm the chill in Deborah, with a growing certainty she wouldn't make it through this. "But I could still turn?"

"That's unlikely," Helena tried to deter. "I'll find the cure before then."

Find, not 'get.' Meaning one didn't exist yet.

Deborah shivered, ill inside, but happy to at least gotten to see her sister again. Getting to see anyone who wasn't the walking dead or a scientist was a plus. She hadn't thought she'd be afforded that before she… before her end. "Helena," Deborah whispered quietly, more fervent after the shots of her sister's gunfire had died down, immediately drawing Helena's sharp, worried eyes. "I'm sorry about all the guys and the parties and the alcohol— " Deborah felt her hand taken in one of Helena's and squeezed then.

"Don't," Helena ordered and pleaded with one desperate word. "You're going to be okay."

"But if I'm not," Deborah insisted, needing her sister to hear this and accept it. There was the chance she wouldn't make it like this. "You need to... to find someone to love."

"It won't come to that," Helena said like a vow. Deborah's heart was crushing inside, fingers trembling with her fear. Helena wasn't ready for her to die. She wasn't ready either. The thought of it shook her so much, it made it hard to even think. Her friends, school, life, none of it mattered as much as Helena. At least she'd seen her before she had to go. The thoughts kept building, opening a strong pain in her chest. Deborah steered her mind away as best she could, looking to her older sister beside her who lined up another shot. That man was still glimpsing them and Deborah wished it was only them. She'd know how to handle this alone with Helena, without him or these monsters around. Deborah only wanted to be held, so that if it was her last, at least she'd be warm in her last memory with Helena…

"A cart," Leon nodded to the little trolley on the tracks. "We'll take it down."

After jogging all the way down the platforms, someplace to rest her feet was welcome. Helena was used to this, Deborah knew, but her body was at the limits of its abuse. Three days of limited scraps and IV'd water later, Deborah was starving and thirsty alike. Helena had given her some type of army ration oats, but the food made her feel even hungrier, like her body didn't accept that kind of nutrition. Deborah could only take that as a sign of what was to come and hadn't eaten since. Sips of water still seemed okay, but Deborah felt dizzy if she drank too much at once.

Helena helped her climb into the cart. "Lie down on the bottom," she advised, "There may be overhangs." Deborah obeyed and felt marginally better when Helena climbed in beside her and hugged to her arm. Deborah wanted to stay with her there for the rest of her time, gazing into those beautiful, burnt amber eyes with her sister pressed to her, keeping her warm. Deborah craved that to the depths of her core. She lifted a hand to cup Helena's cheek with her filthy one, her sister so lovely in all she'd gone through to come to her. "I love you." Deborah said, and meant it with every fiber.

Helena rolled into her more fully, gunless arm wrapping around her until she pulled up enough to kiss her cheek. "Hang on," Helena whispered. "I need you."

Deborah feared how true that resonated.

The kiss lingered longer than it should've, but Deborah was grateful for it. She wished she didn't have this infection inside, weakening her bone and muscle by the hour. She wished she could turn her head to accept that kiss without endangering Helena's life to her same infection. She pained to stay there forever with her older sister.

But it could not be so.

Helena curled off her partially as the man's gunfire stopped and he pulled in. He ducked down too, but stayed sitting up at the front of the crate, looking back at them. Helena unlatched the almost-empty water at her side and pressed it into Deborah's hands as the cart began racing, making Deborah dizzy with the speed, even from the bottom of the cart. "Drink," Helena urged, pressing it into her hands and helping to guide it to Deborah's lips. "It's good for you."

Deborah tried to obey to as much as she could and trained her eyes away from the ceiling that passed a million miles an hour at once. She stared instead at Helena and tried to fill her heart with her.

Helena would be alone when she passed. Without mother, father, sister, or any blood related left. She didn't have friends either, no one who would care for her. What would she do when she didn't have Deborah to worry and stress about? Probably bury herself in her work, no doubt. Helena didn't have anything else.

The thought of that quaked her. Through all the shouts, fights, threats to leave, reunions and their innermost care for each other, Deborah had never really considered what would happen to Helena if she was gone. She'd never really had reason to before, would've never carried out an anger-spewn threat of such. Helena really didn't have anyone else she cared about; not like Deborah. What would become of her sister when she was gone?

XXX

"Deborah!" Deborah gasped for the air to her lungs as she surfaced next to Helena, looking far worst for the wear. Hair and nightgown soaked and weighing her down, she kicked and paddled, frantic to stay afloat in the vent Helena and Leon had found. Limbs and throat burned alike, white-hot fire fatiguing her tired body to its fullest extent. She wasn't built for extremes like this. She wasn't trained like her sister.

"I can't," Deborah gasped, so weak she could barely lift her arms anymore. "Helena, I— "

"Shhh!" Helena hushed, somehow grabbing her around the middle with an arm and still managing to stay afloat with the other and one her legs alone. Deborah couldn't imagine the weight they sustained with their clothes, muscle, and guns. "We'll wait here a minute to take a breath, then we've got to go."

Deborah almost cried when she said it. "No, Helena, I can't. It— " Helena's arm wrenched from around her in a flash before her sister entirely disappeared back under water. "Helena!" Deborah shouted, horrified. Something else grabbed her around the waist and Deborah realized the man had taken Helena's spot.

"Take a breath!" He ordered fast. With barely enough time to comprehend, Deborah only just managed to close her mouth in time before she was pulled under too. Deborah quickly closed her stinging eyes. Her arms were directed to something hard and solid. She clung to it and held her breath as the world seemed to race in increasingly dizzying ways around her.

She could only pray these wouldn't be her last moments alive.

XXX

"Deborah," Helena pulled up her coughing, exhausted sister and brushed the sopping hair from her face, bracing Deborah in her lap. When she touched her skin, she found it cold. Helena's heart raced. "Deborah, we're almost done. Please talk to me."

Deborah breathed a few more beats before she attempted to speak. "Is this… " Deborah breathed in again hard, "This what you do?"

Helena squeezed her tight to her chest, grateful beyond anything to have her there and okay. Relief seeped through her like a flood. Helena couldn't stop holding her. "You're going to be okay," Helena whispered, "We're going to be okay."

For the first time since she promised it, Helena felt safe in knowing it was true.

XXX

"Don't be scared," Helena easily read the fear in her sister's tremble.

"I'm okay," Deborah looked petrified, glancing around in a paranoid manner with her shoulders and body shaking with fear. "I just… not fond of scientists much."

"Hey, look at me. Just look at me." Helena summoned her attention and her eyes, hands on her sister's shoulder on the table. "Keep your eyes on me," Helena eased, wishing she could do this elsewhere or take her home. No doubt, Deborah was reliving the horror of her experimentation. Deborah reached and gripped her other arm in her hand, still shaking, though she seemed to calm looking at her somewhat. "This'll be over before you know it," Helena promised. "It's just a little nap away."

The needle entered Deborah's arm and she twitched and squeaked, tears coming to her eyes. Her grip tightened on Helena's arm. Helena leaned closer to her sister and touched her frazzled hair to brush it back. "Hey, hey," Helena tried to ease, "I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

"Helena," Deborah mewed like a small whimper, sounding so scared and petrified.

Helena kissed Deborah's forehead as her eyes started to flutter from the sedative. "I love you," Helena whispered, well aware she wouldn't get to say it to her again for a very long time, if ever they found a cure. At least Deborah would be safe from ever becoming one of those monsters. Helena had spoken to the scientists ahead of time to make sure her thoughtline would work. According to them, cryo-freezing Deborah would all but stop the mutation process and they'd be able to monitor her progress throughout. If there was ever a chance to save her sister, this was it.

Deborah stilled and fell to her stasis.

She held her sister's hand until they moved her to the stretcher for cryo-freezing. Helena watched them take Deborah away. Whether or not she could be there when it happened, she could only hope they'd be able to wake Deborah again.

Leon came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. Helena wasn't one for accepting hollow comfort from another. She turned his way, back for the door. "Come on," Helena distanced from the scene, "We have work to do."

Having done everything she could, it was now out of her hands.

It wouldn't leave her mind for a moment after they'd left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Days Later,**  
**Back at the CC**

Helena touched the glass behind which her sister lay. At a slight angle, Deborah rest in an air-tight, cryogenic case, her state catatonic, just barely out of reach, but so far gone from Helena. It'd be a long time before she could see her sister again.

"It's time for me to take responsibility," Helena told her quietly, giving Deborah her last goodbye. She looked through that clear glass to her beautiful, flawless face inside, eyes closed and gently resting. Helena had that face memorized; it was what would carry her in prison.

Hand dropping from the glass, she turned back to Leon and Hunnigan who'd helped her through all of this, the reason her sister had been saved. "Thank you." She bowed her head respectfully and waited for him. "I'm ready."

Leon exchanged a glance with Hunnigan before stepping forward and taking her hand to cuff. Something heavy was placed in her hand. She squinted at the sight of her gun, lifting her eyes to Leon in shock. "What? But I assisted in the attack." Had he not understood her? She'd been responsible for the president's death.

But Leon only glanced back to Hunnigan with a small, shared little smile. Hunnigan stepped forward to explain. "The investigating committee have reviewed the evidence, and feel it unjust to hold you liable for Simmon's crime. They will also not be disclosing their findings to the public."

Helena shook her head. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She wasn't supposed to get off on murder scot-free. "But I— "

Leon interrupted. "The president would have done the same."

Helena lowered her head, hard-pressed to believe this. Did this mean… she'd get to see her sister again? She didn't know what to say. Leon didn't appear to either. Thankfully, Hunnigan seemed to have more people-grace. "Do you need another moment with Deborah?"

"I'm okay."

"All right," Hunnigan nodded, "should we go join the team?"

Helena cast one last glance at her sister. She wouldn't rest until she was safe.

**XXX**

Cain Lawson flashed his clearance in a typical dour mood, made only further so by the situation surrounding this visit to the CC. The scanner accepted his specialized CIA clearance and let him pass. It was only what appeared to be a normal guest-passing unit, but Cain knew if his card had failed to get clearance, trained gunmen and snipers would be escorting him in a second.

He was glad to see his presence had aroused no unusual suspicion thus far. He hadn't been quite sure his identification would get him this far already.

Not that it mattered. Even if Cain had been escorted out by gunmen, he'd have come back for this later under nightfall with a break in entry. It just made it easier that he could walk right in.

His daughter was inside. Nothing would stop Cain from reaching her this time. Not even Claire.

Deborah had been taken captive by one of the most dangerous men in the world, recently identified villain Derek Simmons, the previous presidential aide. Cain didn't have enough clearance with the FOS to know exactly what'd happened, but the tabs he kept on his long lost children with Claire had alerted her disappearance almost immediately. From there, he and Claire had worked to pick up bits and pieces in hopes of helping their eldest daughter, Helena Harper, rescue and safely return Deborah back home. The fact that she'd been moved to this facility didn't bode well, sparking a terrible certainty in Cain that his daughter had been subjected to the new C-virus.

Cryogenics centers had opened up all over the country since the first outbreak of different virus strands. It'd been identified early that sub-freezing an individual who'd been infected proved an efficient way to slow the progression of the virus almost to a stop. Though the process was expensive in sustaining, it was the only truly efficient way they had of slowing the C-virus while scientist teams worked on new cures for the outbreaks. That process should at least be sped along with the discovery of Jake, the immune son of the late Wesker, but Cain made no mistake about how long that could take, about how long his daughter could remain a frozen husk in this center.

Jaw tight and fingers clenching, Cain stopped at the secretary's information desk and tried to keep from punching through the marble of her circular center. "Deborah Harper." The secretary glanced up from her computer at the sound of his voice, not having noticed with that headset probably rattling off into her head. "I'm here to see her."

"Do you have an appointment?" The secretary asked, scanning through files to check their recent visitor.

Cain wordlessly slid his CIA identification her way and hoped for the best. The woman paused, took that in, checked something on her computer, then stood. "Right this way, Mr. Lawson. I'll escort you to Dr. Holtz, who can show you to her cell block."

Whether it was his wife's good clearance on the name or they didn't know of him or his record with the CIA personally, Cain was just grateful he wouldn't have to find her himself. It would be a lot easier getting answers this way. With every step after the aide, his heart seemed to pick up another beat as they went.

He was going to see his youngest daughter again after twenty years.

Cain couldn't control the rising anxiety inside him. He wasn't good at containing his emotions the way Claire, his almost-divorced wife, was. Cain represented almost an exact opposite to Claire's diligence and rational. It'd brought them together in the beginning, but since the forfeit of their children for their own safety, it'd torn their marriage to bloody shambles and minute pieces.

None of that really mattered right now; it didn't matter that Claire would have a fit when he finally got home or probably divorce him after their long-estranged marriage, not even held with a thread so much as Claire's rationale, nor did he care what enemies might be remotely watching him make this visit. Cain had to see his daughter and nothing would get in his way.

The secretary introduced the doctor and set them off. Cain only nodded silently and walked along behind Dr. Holtz. They traveled for quite some time and went down a few flights of stairs, passing medical, technical, and all sorts of equipment Cain didn't care to recognize before they reached what seemed to be a bottom floor of upright, technical caskets. Cain memorized the route without thinking much about it. Dr. Holtz took him down the row for a long moment until they reached one twenty-two caskets down. Cords and hookups fed into the air tight machine with a glass plating. Behind it rested Cain's daughter, Deborah Harper, in her sleep.

The building in Cain's chest seemed to culminate at the sight of her until he let out a small puff of breath. He'd seen pictures, of course. They were one of the only things that kept his life worth living now, and Cain had spied before. On two very rare accounts, when he'd been able to get close enough with excuse for being there, Cain had watched each of his daughters just once before, but he'd never been this close. Never been near enough to exact the dimensions of her cheek, to see the blonde coloring from mom in her light brown hair, nor know the exact curve of her jaw in a manner like this. Cain had seen none of these things in person before.

They took his breath away as sure as the day when he'd first married Claire.

Cain stared for a long while, drinking in every sight, every angle of the beautiful woman his youngest had become. Not a moment passed that he didn't memorize, hard-wiring the sight of her into his brain for later reflection to help the living nightmare of a shattered life. The picture of her so still, just beyond the glass stilled Cain in a way he hadn't felt for years of turmoil and a roiling heart.

He wished Claire could be here to see her too.

But that wouldn't happen. That'd never happen. When Claire found out he'd been here, she'd go crazy with the knowledge that he'd jeopardized twenty years of hiding them for one glimpse of his daughter. Worse than that, she'd call him selfish and stupid, endangering their lives in violation of a decision he hadn't agreed with all those years ago, one he'd been pushed to that'd lost his children forever.

Sometimes, Cain wondered if she had a heart behind all her logic and rationale. Cain could never be the machine she demanded him to become. It was what'd broken them in the first place; why Cain had been miserable the past twenty long years.

"What happened?"

Slowly, the doctor recounted everything he knew. Every word burned Cain's mind like a fresh scar. If Helena hadn't killed Simmons, Cain would've burned the man alive thrice over for his crimes.

As it was, he could do nothing. So he listened and stared.

**XXX**

Claire was unsurprisingly at the computer when Cain finally poked back in. She turned at the sound of the door, spikey blonde head turning to face him with a hand on her gun. Crystal blue eyes actually widened at the sight of him, a rare display of surprise from her. "Cain," Claire released her gun, "Where have you been?" She glanced to the computer. "You've been gone for hours. I was just about to track you." She rose from the chair.

Good. She hadn't yet. She would tomorrow, Cain knew, especially without an answer, but Cain had plans to be selfish tonight. His reunion with his daughter had touched him so, Cain only wanted a few hours. With it, he could just pretend. Claire hadn't gotten to share the sight of her youngest with him. Cain wanted her to feel as good as it'd made him.

Claire inhaled when he touched her mouth with lips almost unfamiliar, it'd been so long. He wound a strong arm around her shoulders where it rested like it belonged. She dipped back over the table slightly as Cain's body pressed to hers, hardened merely by her touch that wasn't fighting him off. Cain clicked a key on her keyboard that shut the screen off. He wrapped that other arm around her back in support. When he pulled away for a breath, confusion was the least of things radiating from Claire.

"Cain…" those blue eyes danced, finding him in their curiosity in wonderment what this was.

"Give me tonight," Cain asked, begged, begging his wife to please her in a way any man was supposed by silent permission. Claire touched his clean-shaven chin and rubbed fingers along his cheek, the question there in her precious eyes. "Please." Cain held her so tight, wanting to murmur words he hadn't in twenty years.

Claire seemed to be trying to determine what caused this sudden need in him. Instead of asking like he half-feared, she leaned towards him and kissed him gently, lips soft and tender in their press. "Okay," she murmured, seeming to take mercy on his weakness here. She probably thought this had to do with the recent abduction of Deborah and her release. She wasn't entirely wrong. Cain wanted to pretend for one night that it'd be okay. She could go back to that cold logical side tomorrow, and she would. But he needed to share this moment with her tonight. "My bedroom."

Cain picked her up without effort and carried her to her bedroom that night; hers, not theirs. He made love to her in a way that made her gasp and cream. The condom was a hurtful reminder, but Cain didn't protest when she slipped it out of the drawer and covered him with it. When he was inside, he barely felt it at all with his name on Claire's lips, tasting him like she hadn't done for over a year now. Cain came with her, beautifully spent in the warm arms of his estranged wife.

Claire gave him a generous few moments of silence, where they just breathed together, Claire on top of him now. She smelled better to his sensitive senses than any woman had in his life. Cain thought he might be lucky enough that she'd fallen asleep.

"Cain,"

Reality was much too cruel for that.

"Can I stay?" Cain asked quickly, not wanting to get kicked out to his own lonely room again tonight.

Claire's wholesome breasts swelled to his with every breath, keeping him warm underneath her. She took another moment to respond. "I've forwarded Deborah on the priority list of cure administrations. As soon as they devise one with better results, she'll be one of the top recipients."

It was chilling and heartwarming all at once to Cain. Such a very reasonable, logical response for her to share after they'd just made love for the first time this year. Claire had easily read that this need was about Deborah; hearing the measures she'd taken to hack their daughter up on the priority list both warmed Cain and broke his heart. It was all Claire would ever consider doing for their children: helping from a distance.

Cain wished she could love them as he loved them instead, with a heart instead of a mind. Claire didn't operate like that.

"Good," was all he said, cuddled in spooning need to his wife.

For one night, before she knew, Cain could take comfort in this.

**XXX**

Claire woke first, but didn't attempt to move yet. She was warm, comforted in Cain's loving arms. It wouldn't last, she knew, so she had to take what she could get. Claire basked in the warmth of his grip around her now, that hot press of his body to the flat of her back, where his arm rested and heated up her belly. She missed sharing this.

But Cain didn't provide this warmth anymore. He hadn't for twenty years. Last night had been a fluke and nothing more, borne out of a warped concern for their youngest daughter they both shared over the years. Claire didn't want this moment to pass, but it inevitably would when he woke.

Cain could never forgive her for taking their children from him.

It'd been twenty long years ago when the situation had struck. Lightning had always feared it at the back of her mind, but thought she could protect them. It proved untrue. They'd almost lost both their children that day. In a measured decision for their safety, Claire had had their children taken away, given new names and families, and put into a witness protection custody. It all had to be legit; in honesty, she and Cain shouldn't even know who their children were at this point, but knowing was the one allowance Claire had allowed them both. It helped her and Cain to protect them, she rationalized, by keeping tabs at a distance.

The men who'd hunted them then still hadn't been overthrown. They were part of a larger operation who, Lightning believed, would never completely fall and thus, her children would never be completely safe with a connection always tied to her and Cain.

Cain hadn't wanted it then and he hadn't forgiven her for it yet. Claire understood. She couldn't blame Cain for it, but it made for an especially tense marriage after their leave.

Not even threads still held them together now. It was only logic that prevailed there. Cain needed her credentials to operate in CIA. No one trusted him otherwise. Claire kept him out of prison every day and everyone knew it. She did this because she still loved him, deeper than his misunderstanding. For all Cain's emotionally-driven pursuits, he could not and would never understand why they had to give them up, even with the clear logic pounding him straight on the nose. Claire wouldn't give him up for something she'd forced for their children's safety; and Cain didn't have it in him to divorce.

So they lay, an estranged couple, bound to burst into fighting as soon as he opened his eyes. Claire tried not to think about it. She tried not to think about anything but his arms, warm and firm around her like she was loved.

They didn't often sleep together anymore. Claire couldn't remember a time this past year that they'd weakened enough to succumb, but she should've guessed Deborah's kidnapping would break something inside Cain. He wasn't a hard sort, barely built for the CIA but for excellent field performance. She'd been too busy predicting his next rash move when they'd heard to think he'd come down to this too, but it made sense. She only wished this could last a moment longer for her indulgence.

Reality wasn't so kind as that.

"Claire?"

Claire closed her eyes. Her name sounded so right on his lips, but only chaos would follow this, no matter how level-headed they tried to be with each other.

"I'm awake," Claire confirmed softly, not wanting to rouse from this dream-like state.

Cain waited a long moment, perhaps trying to stall the inevitable fight too. Or maybe just wondering how he'd gotten there that morning. With how loving he had acted, Claire wouldn't excuse the possibility that he'd been drunk, even if he hadn't seemed so. Claire hoped he hadn't been. She'd felt loved last night. Why couldn't it just be that?

"I have something to tell you. Something you won't like." Cain admitted, making her heart sink more with every word. Had his loving just been that, a way to ease her up to dump on the bad news? Claire would've rather believed it a spot of weakness, that small part of him that still cared.

"What'd you do?" Claire asked, because she sadly knew this being his fault. She'd wondered what trouble he'd get into after the news. She was about to find out, it seemed. When Cain hesitated to speak, she added. "I'll try not to be mad."

Cain was quiet for another long moment. Claire wondered if he ever might say. It took quite a few breaths after that, then, "I went to the Cryogenics Center to see Deborah."

Claire went cold. Stiff as a sheen of metal, she stared at the wall ahead in mute disbelief, not processing those words. She couldn't process because they couldn't be. In the height of his worst emotionally-driven moments, Cain would never be so stupid or selfish as that, to throw twenty years of estranged marriage misery and the safety of their children away with one thoughtless, fleeting urge. There was no way.

But then Cain's hot breath released near her ear, a whisper escaping. "I'm sorry."

Gone went Claire's promise that she'd try to keep a cool head, along with everything else that could process in a conscious mind. A mind-numbing fear blanketed Claire in her disbelief. Twenty years of a broken marriage, longing for her husband and babies, but knowing they were safer away; all of that obliterated in an instant of Cain's selfish need.

"Get out," and when it came, it was a hateful hiss, fear and anger beyond anything lacing the words like venom. Claire said them because she didn't know what she'd do to Cain if he stayed, because she loved him and hated him and understood his selfishness completely, but was in utter disbelief, all coated with an unveiled fear and rage that shook her to her very core. Cain had beheld their child in person, risking everything they'd suffered for a glimpse of their baby girl.

Claire honestly couldn't tell if the anger was more directed at the act, or that he'd risk such a selfish thing without her, without letting her behold her baby. Not that she'd have let him; and with exact certainty, that was why he'd gone alone, sneaking it past her, then returned to make love to her in the most caring of ways, like he hadn't jeopardized every bit of their daughters' lives for one glimpse. Claire couldn't tell if she envied or hated him more in this moment.

Cain did possibly the smartest thing he'd done in all their time together. His heavy arm left her, warmth already far gone. Clothes rustled about on the floor as he picked them up. Then Cain's strong hand appeared, putting down his phone with picture of Deborah laying at a slant in a cryogenics tube. Without another word, he left and closed the door.

Claire couldn't decide if it was the kindest or the cruelest thing he'd ever done. Grabbing up his phone, she stared at her daughter inside, the closest she'd ever gotten to see either of her baby girls, through distant pictures. Cradling the phone to her breast, the first tear in twenty years gently slid down her cheek.


End file.
